Scars
by TTrash
Summary: Italy kisses Germany's battle scars one night.. and Germany returns the favour. (TW for self harm) sorry i suck at summaries


Feliciano runs his fingertips over the rough tissue on Ludwig's bare chest. The mangled line feels and looks like whatever may have caused it must have felt like hell. He cringes at the thought of the other man being in such pain- even if it _was _years ago. Cringes, and bends, giving the raised skin a tender kiss.

"Ah- that was from the war in Russia- you remember that, right?"

Nods and kisses the mark again, moving to a long healed gash emblazoned over his left shoulder. The puckered skin felt almost as if nothing had happened to it, however one could easily tell something _had_ happened just by looking at it. He stroked it pensively, saddened by the thought of Ludwig being in such peril.

"I don't actually remember where or how I got that one. Just that it was very bad."

In between the warm sheets and jet black room, he could _just _make out Feliciano's small frown. Feliciano not smiling was something he - or anyone for the matter- ever saw. On any rare occasion where he might see it however, it was something he sought sorely to fix.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't like seeing you in pain." the utterance was hardly audible.

"They're old leibe, the don't hurt anymore."

"But they did, didn't they?"

There wasn't a damn thing he could say to that. Not one. Glances at the clock. It must really be getting late now, and Feliciano's sentences don't make sense as is. Now he was just spouting nonsense.

"I think it's time we go to sleep."

Nods, and plops his forehead into the crook of Ludwig's elbow. A light blush dusts the German man's cheeks at this. _It's been god knows how long and he's still cute. _This thought was soon followed by a _what the hell? That was embarrassing. Who am I embarrassing? Myself, right._

He breaks from his reverie, remembering the source of the distracting thoughts lying astride him. A sigh - but not a bad one – and he turns, draping his free arm softly over the other man's waist. He was unsurprised to find he was already asleep. Honestly, that has to be unnatural. What if he was magical? Oh, what if that's a _sickness?_ What if…

His thoughts wandered uselessly in circles until he fell into a comfortable sleep.

Ludwig wakes early the next morning, as usual. The sun was still hoisting itself over the horizon, trying to begin painting the sky blue. To anyone else this time would be too early to even manage a coherent thought, but to him? Daily routine.

He can't move. His left arm is currently taking up residence as Feliciano's substitute pillow. The sleepy Italian is marginally smaller than him, small enough to move. However to move him from his current state would be a felony.

His soft auburn hair was tickling his arm, and his left hand was resting on it as well, partly obscuring his face. The white button up – _his_ white button up, he noted – covering almost the entire hand. He was snoring softly, eyelids twitching here and there.

Seeing him just _exist_ in such an adorable way sent a crippling wave of fondness piercing through his chest, making his heart ache.

However, as he stared at his partner longer, (it's only creepy if they're not dating ) he noticed that his other hand was in a less desirable place. It was lodged between the left side of Ludwig's ribcage and the mattress. He hadn't the faintest idea how he could've ended up there, but he knew it couldn't be exactly _comfortable. _While the man wasn't but a few inches shorter than he, he was definitely thinner. That had to hurt.

Slowly and carefully, he raised himself up just enough to remove his boyfriend's hand away from the danger zone, gingerly laying it back in front of its owners sleeping body.

He returned to his original position, silently thanking whatever god there might've been in heaven that Feliciano didn't wake up in the process. He was sure his heart wouldn't have been able to handle that.

He lets his eyes his eyes flicker over his sleeping form before- hang on, what the hell is that? The shirtsleeve of his right arm had ridden up a bit, and from beneath thin white lines could be seen dotting his skin.

Feliciano had… self harm scars? How? What the hell could have ever driven such a happy, sweet man to do something like that? Gently he reached out, pulling a sleeve back a bit more. This revealed even more of the silvery marks. Dozens of them; all varying in length, width, and vibrancy. The sight of them made his breath catch in his throat.

He didn't know exactly what to think. What was he to do once Feliciano woke up? Surely it wasn't something he would like to dwell on, and all of those scars _did_ look very old. He absentmindedly ran his fingertips softly along the tiny lines as he pondered them.

Meanwhile, Feliciano's warm caramel eyes were slowly opening. He could swear something just tickled his arm a second ago. As he slowly collected his lost strands of consciousness, Ludwig's face swam into view. He looked sad, a lot sadder than he'd seen him in a long time. Sad? Why would he look sad so early in the morning? That's not alright.

"Luddy?"

Hearing Feliciano's early morning croaky voice sent a fresh package of warm feelings, almost enough to cover the overwhelming sense of foreboding he'd gotten since he'd seen the scars. Almost.

Once Feliciano had regained his voice he spoke again.

"What's wrong Luddy? Did you have a bad dream?"

He silently shook his head, eyes full of despair.

"Well what then?" Feliciano had his full attention on the other man, now deeply concerned.

Ludwig couldn't speak. He was sure that even if he could, he'd have nothing to say. Now though, whatever words he may have had dissolved on his tongue. Instead, he took a shuddering breath and gently tapped the forearm he had uncovered.

Feliciano looked down, and felt his heart falter. He'd never expected Ludwig to find out about that, especially now that he had stopped doing it.

"Oh. That. Yeah I- it- that happened a long time ago. Like, the 40's I think. Well.. it started then. It- it was dumb that I didn't stop until a couple years ago. A-anyway though, you shouldn't worry about it, I'm over it."

"How come you never told me? I would have helped you, you know that, right?"

A sigh. "I-I know. But back when I _was _doing it, a lot of it was because I.. kinda, uh, thought I was really annoying? I mean- I used to hear a lot of the things other nations said about me behind my back, and I guess it just really got to me. I think everyone was stressed out then though 'cause of the end of the war, you know? I just kept up the habit afterwards. I.. it's nothing you could've helped. "

After Feliciano's explanation, Ludwig said nothing, but nodded. He was unsure if what he was doing was right, but he had to do it.

"May I?" he asked softly, gesturing to the partly rolled up sleeve.

"O-oh, sure."

He presented Ludwig with not only the half bare arm, but the covered one too. The implication of it made his heart clench painfully.

Slowly, he lifted both sleeves to the elbow, one by one. Each arm had a layer of dozens of small ivory scars covering it. A particularly vibrant one located near the base his left hand was raised much higher than the others, and looked as if it had been stitched over multiple times. He gently ran his thumb over it.

"That's from a time when I- erm- tried to- uh- kill… myself..." The last words of his sentence trailed off into almost silence.

His eyes lingered on the nearly skin coloured mark a while longer until he brought the arm to his lips, pressing a ginger kiss there, before doing the same to the other arm.

"Thank you." Feliciano looked up at Ludwig with a small smile. His voice was a bit breathy, and his eyes looked like they were threatening to spill over with tears at any moment. He blinked them away a moment later, shaking his head. He looked dangerously cute.

"Ich liebe dich."

Ludwig pressed his nose into his copper hair, breathing in his unique scent. God, he could have lost this man. He couldn't believe he had suffered so immensely without giving any indication he was doing so. The guilt of never noticing his pain hit him as if he'd been slapped. He tightened his grip on the smaller man, grateful to be able to do so.

"Ve- do you want breakfast? I'm hungry. Also brush your teeth, you stink."

Ludwig stifled a chuckle at the sudden change of mood. He was generally used to the mans odd antics by now, but they still continued to baffle him sometimes.

"Yeah, breakfast would be great."

"Okay, go make some." He could feel the mischievous grin press against his collarbone. The feeling sent bubbles of childish happiness up his spine.

"You asshole."

Feliciano giggled against him, grinning like sunshine was going through his veins. He was so perfect, it probably was. He loved him and- yeah, he would do everything in his power to protect this man, even from himself. He was the _personification_ of happiness, and he would do anything to preserve that. This man never deserved to be as pained as he was then _ever_ again. He deserved nothing less than the absolute best, and he was more than happy to provide it. Forever.


End file.
